Andrew dropped his plasma gun, letting it hang around his shoulder by its bungee strap, then sighted the last group. They were rushing at him, ignoring Mariela as if she were an inanimate object, though she reached out her hands as if trying to stop and slow them. They swarmed around, knocking the girl roughly down, paying her no notice.
Andrew was back in control now, and he didn’t need the faint early images from his prescient mind to tell him what to shoot. He carefully executed each rushing man and woman, tapping each one in the chest twice. Six fell as they ran. Ten. Twelve. The last one took one shot in the shoulder, and the rifle was empty. Andrew let go of the rifle and picked up his plasma gun. The man was almost upon him, blood pouring from his single wound. Andrew could see his face – which was both confused and angry.
With two air-burning shots, Andrew obliterated the man, turning him into a smoking corpse with two gaping wounds seared through him. The man’s face was plastered in a slightly sad expression as he fell. Andrew had a flashback; he saw the man sitting near Mariela in an office, talking calmly. The girl seemed not to notice the conversation, and stared at her hands.
“Mariela, let’s go!” Andrew said. “You see you can’t stay here. He was mad. They all were, and I can tell you, there is no cure.”
Mariela picked herself up, shocked at the carnage surrounding her. Tears were welling in her open, trembling eyes.
Andrew gave her an appraising stare. He looked down at the blood, which was running between the forgotten pre-packaged snacks piled at the bottom of the stairs. His mind was blank, unable to think of the next step as he looked upon the gory horror of his handiwork. The stoic lane that he piloted his psyche through was suddenly no longer straight, but was like a winding path. He felt no immediate disgust, or fear, but all around him the feelings pressed in. All he really knew was that he had to escape the sight; escape, or else succumb and lose what control he still held.
Hesitantly, willing his voice to work, he said, “I’m… going to the elevators.” His voice died like sand spilling on stone. He choked slightly. Silently, he considered carrying Mariela out by force, but the warm liquid running underfoot unnerved him. He turned and walked hurriedly up the stairs, gripping the handrail on his left in case he slipped in the blood, which was running in torrents over the stone steps. In some places, the puddles on the uneven stairs were deep enough to lap over the tops of his composite boots. He let his rifle slide to behind his right hip and continued holding his plasma gun in his right hand; he wanted the escape from the grizzly scene even more than he wanted to reload, for it was more than a sight, it was a beacon, and he feared the one who would heed it – the one who laughed in the cold recesses between his footsteps.
When he reached the top of the stairs he traded his weapons, traded his magazine for a fresh one, then started back toward the lift, refusing to turn and watch the stairs.
As he walked, another part of his mind pushed forward with a vision, though he couldn’t be sure which. He was sitting alone in the cockpit of his ship, calm and without fear. It faded as he neared the lift car, dissipating into hazy memory as quickly as it had come.
It stood open, just as he had left it, a lighthouse to the floundering ship of his mind, beaten by waves of emotion. He reached the control terminal and sighed, leaning against the wall. He looked out at the track through the lift car window, watching it fade into night. The running lights disappeared into the twisting rock further out, hiding the points beyond. He could not bear to wonder what was out there, which was just as well, as he had decided he would leave without finding his mark. He simply could not endure any longer.
The girl he was supposed to find was just that – a girl, and he had thus far seen only adults, save for Mariela, who hardly qualified as such. The children were likely dead – he had a sudden echo of the horror on the first floor, along with laughter from his old self – or else were in the sixth sector, along with the rest of the colonists. And their minds were surely gone. He turned and looked back at the empty space of the landing and the tunnel to the mine. Mariela had not followed him.
He looked at the panel and considered leaving Mariela, but despite the emotional detachment he had developed over the fractured months, he felt horror at the threat of guilt of such a decision. Guilt in the moment washed over him, as he considered that he left her amid his carnage, as if she were a child throwing a tantrum, refusing to come when bidden, not a grown woman who had witnessed the death of a dozen people she had known since childhood. And she had not followed. Of course! She would not leave, not if she would walk headstrong into the hive of monsters without a care.
Andrew banged his fist against his head. “What’s wrong with you?” He stepped away from the elevator, hearing a beep from his computer, alerting him to an unexpected jump in his blood pressure and pulse. He reached the stairwell, whose lights were now flickering, threatening to return to some semblance of life. To his relief, Mariela was walking up the stairs. In the high contrast of the flickering lights he could almost pretend the floor was black, not crimson. Caked with oil, rather than blood.
“I’m glad you’re coming,” he said.
She raised her eyes to look at him, and frowned with anger.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and stepped back to let her pass. She turned back toward the office and began walking quickly.
“The elevators are back this way,” he said. She ignored him. He sighed. He would have to carry her out after all. Leaving her would be unacceptable. Horrific. He started after her. When he reached the office space, he found Mariela emptying some drawers and pulling out various items from beneath an aluminum desk, then stuffing them into a backpack. She pulled out a sponge cake from the bag, opened the wrapper and bit down into it, and then walked toward Andrew.
Andrew frowned with realization. “You got everything?”
Mariela nodded, then walked past him, eating the snack cake noisily. Andrew skipped a step to keep up.
“It was you that left all that food at the bottom of the stairs.”
She glanced at him and nodded.
“Why?”
She put the snack cake in her mouth and rubbed her stomach.
Andrew thought a moment. “You came here and left it for the… people, below?”
She nodded.
“They stopped eating the food.”
She nodded again.
“But you kept coming down here anyway.”
Mariela continued to nod.
“You got it from the main dormitories. That’s why so many machines were empty.”
She looked at him and nodded curtly.
“If you could have put out the beacon for help the whole time, why didn’t you?” He remembered and corrected himself, “Unless you didn’t know how to pull the alarm or-”
Mariela shook her head and then pointed to her temple.
“You didn’t because you didn’t want to lose your parents?” He shook his head. “Oh, it’s probably better you didn’t call for help. Whoever came would be enslaved…” Andrew trailed off and looked hard at Mariela.
She didn’t respond to his monologue. She walked quickly to the elevator and began working the computer terminal outside it. The doors opened.
“Willing to leave now?”
Mariela stared at him. She finished the last of the cake, then scribbled in her notebook and showed it to Andrew.
They won’t come out now. They haven’t eaten food in a long time.
“There are more people down there still, hiding?”
She nodded.
“Do your parents notice you? Do they acknowledge you?”
Mariela looked sadly at him and shook her head.
“It’s the wrtla. What they were… they’re gone.”
Mariela scribbled. I know. Then, What’s a wertala?
“Wrtla,” Andrew said, trying to drop the vowels and pronounce the title he had learned from his contact with… he could not remember its proper name, just it’s title. He motio
ned to the elevator. Mariela stepped in and he followed. He watched her punch up the dormitories. The car started moving, lurching from its resting place, squeaking as it slowly began its ascent.
Mariela pointed again to her notebook. What’s a Wertala?
Andrew thought a moment. “It’s an ancient monster. A demon, a devil.” He shook his head. “Something beyond such concepts – they don’t do it justice. It can control the minds of humans, turn them mad. It eats sanity like its food. A long time ago – nobody who knows anything about the wrtla knows exactly how long but we think close to a hundred thousand Earth years – they were imprisoned by a race of beings that could compete with their power. Angels, maybe, but they left nothing behind. The wrtla were placed deep within planets like this one, hopefully to be forgotten by man. Whatever they are, my guess is they are immortal on some level, but clearly not powerful enough to escape a prison of rock.
“But their powers can leak through, touching the minds of people. Maybe they’ve been coming through for a long time. Calling mankind down, back to them – some primeval song without words or melody. We hear it between the words of thought. Out in space…” Andrew was clenching his hands as he talked. “They can whisper, too, if you get too close, and once they get in, you’ll be their slave, and if you escape, you’ll go mad. Trust me, I know.”
He was waiting for her to ask him how he knew. He dreaded the question, because within it was the explanation of his power, but also of the madman that lurked within him, ready to take control and wreak havoc. He laughed inside (and not the “old” Andrew) – madman! Ha! – he was already a madman, with four minds living inside him, constantly trying to be the one true mind, constantly talking behind each other’s backs. Some part of him wanted her to ask him. He needed confession. He longed for it.
But she didn’t ask him. Instead, she wrote in her notebook again.
I haven’t heard any whispers. I’m not insane.
“You’d have to be a little crazy to keep coming down to feed those people,” Andrew said.
She wrote, What else should I have done?
Andrew shrugged. “Did any of the others acknowledge you? Notice your existence?”
She shook her head.
“Weird. I think the unprotected part of my mind can hear the thing inside the rock whispering, practically screaming. Or singing.”
What is it saying?
Andrew opened up to his old self for a few moments. “Lots of things. Kill, mostly. But you don’t have to worry about me. Like I said, it only whispers to the unprotected part of my mind, and it’s locked away safely.” Andrew bit his lip. He did need confession. He made up his mind to see a priest when he got out of this, though he wondered if the priest would understand, and would actually be willing to help him pray; help him find forgiveness.
Old Andrew was balking at him at the thought. A priest? You think he knows God
The car rocked as it passed a beam in the dark.
Mariela scribbled, Why did you come here? To get me?
“No. But I won’t leave someone behind who can be saved.”
She pointed at the notebook again.
“I came to save a little girl named Vivian Toro. I was hired by her father, Saul Toro. I don’t think I’ll be able to finish the job, though.”
I know her. Little girl.
“She’s probably dead by now.”
I wasn’t dead.
“You’re immune, that is, if you really don’t hear the voice. You’re an adult… If Vivian was immune, there was nobody to care for her.”
Mariela frowned and then wrote quickly, You’re a coward.
Andrew flushed slightly. “I can’t feasibly search every cranny of this mine. It’s not possible as one man.”
You know she’s on level six. The rest are.
“I don’t know that.”
Mariela touched the panel and the lift car stopped, swinging in the abyss. She pointed to the notebook again.
“I have a responsibility to you now. I must see you to safety first.”
She sighed as she wrote. I was already safe.
“You won’t be if I head to level six.”
They don’t pay attention to me. She was getting tearful as she pointed to her words. She grunted in exasperation and went to the panel. The car started moving back. Andrew saw she had punched in level six. He sighed and stepped over, but she slapped his hand as he reached for the panel. Quickly, she unplugged it from the wall.
“I can just plug the monitor back in.”
She shook her head. She wrote again.
I know the way.
Andrew sighed. He remembered her standing still while the vile people of the mind swarmed past her, bent on him. Perhaps she was right, and they would ignore her. “Where is the closest security station? Any weapons storage?”
Mariela smiled asymmetrically. The left side of her face seemed unwilling to go with the rest. She kneeled down and plugged the monitor back in. With a few strokes, they were headed back up.
Andrew leaned back and looked at Mariela. She stood looking out the window as they moved through the darkness, the lights on the rails making an endlessly extending road to nowhere. The girl looked terrified, but at the same time without fear. A sadness touched her eyes, which seemed fixed in a downturned expression. Andrew could not be sure if that was due to some neurological damage, or if she was emoting into the abyss.
“Do you know how to operate a gun?”
Mariela turned and looked at him. She nodded once. Andrew doubted that was a true answer, but the question on its own was a gambit he could not back out of.
“If I die, take the elevator back to the dormitories. My ship is parked outside. You won’t be able to operate it without an access code, but there is a distress beacon on board that will function. I have a few friends in the sector that know I’m here. They’ll take care of you, but don’t let them into the colony.”
Mariela looked at him as if to say thanks, but all that came out were some confused vocalizations. She sighed and wrote in her notebook.
You think you will die?
“It’s always a possibility. If I see something we can’t avoid, we’ll just leave.”
What if they surprise you?
Andrew smiled. “I’m difficult to surprise. Make sure you pay attention to me and obey my orders.”
She nodded.
The lift reached the sector four landing station and slowed. It was dusty and the bright lights of the robot Lucille could be seen down a long hallway.
“Anyone on this level?” Andrew said as the doors opened.
Mariela shrugged.
“Do you know where the weapons locker is?”
Mariela bit her lip.
“Do you know that there is one on this level?”
She nodded.
“Lucille ought to know, then. That’s that robot up ahead.”
He stepped out into the cavernous foyer and flipped on his light. He swung through the still hanging dust, checking corners, then waved Mariela forward. They went straight down the half-finished hallway toward the working robot. They passed a few doors that Andrew hastily checked for any signs of humans, then finally reached Lucille.
The robot ceased kicking up the dust and cleaning the floor as they approached.
“Hello, Toro,” the robot said in a kindly voice. “It’s good to see you again. Is your shift over?”
“Not quite,” Andrew said. “Do you know where security is on this level?”
“Has there been an incident?”
Andrew paused a moment. “Yes.”
Lucille clicked silently, its dimmed flashlight head motionless. “There are no security personnel on active duty in this sector. Shall I page another station?”
“It won’t do any good,” Andrew said.
“Why not? Is something wrong with the security personnel?”
Andrew looked at Mariela, who shrugged.
“The network is malfunctioning,” Andrew sai
d. “The personnel are on duty, but… but all of the stations are…” He stammered as his past self begged for his attention, raving, but also pleading. He listened for a brief second. “The system software is bugged out and is returning a null value for all members of the team. I need to get to the station to correct it, but I’m new here.”
Lucille clicked again. Its head turned and seemed to regard Mariela. “You can reach the closest security station by returning to the lift terminals, taking the second hallway from the left, and proceeding to room three, on the left. Greetings, Mariela.”
Mariela nodded nervously to the robot.
“Have a nice day, Lucille,” Andrew said. He grabbed Mariela’s hand lightly and led her away from the robot, back down toward the lifts. They quickly made the rounds and found room three, which had a clear gold-lettered sign reading “Security.”
As Andrew reached for the door handle, he had a slight premonition. It wasn’t a full-blown vision, but his prescient self was warning him, though not of imminent danger. With the echo of the forgotten crib, he had some idea what to expect.
The door, however, did not wish to open. Looking around, Andrew saw that it was a powered lock, and the power had been disconnected at some point.
“Damn, Lucille, why did you have to clean before fixing anything?” He looked at Mariela. “Stand over there.”
Andrew took his plasma gun out and covered his eyes with his arm before obliterating the door lock. Pieces of aluminum shrapnel spun away, bouncing off of his suit and the wall. White smoke billowed up, but the fire system didn’t recognize it. Andrew kicked the door in, which gave easily. The rest of the lock rattled off and clanged on the ground.
The lights flickered on as they entered. It was a rather normal office for a large mining operation’s minimally-needed security, containing generic furniture, computers, seating, and a few lockers. Andrew saw immediately what his prescient self had warned him of. Lying down against one of the walls was a man in the remains of a security uniform. He was clearly dead, his eyes drawn and opaque, his flesh withered slightly and desiccated. His peeled lips were thin and revealed rotting gums holding long teeth.
Voices of the Void Page 4
